


Monstres

by Vanity_Sinning



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanity_Sinning/pseuds/Vanity_Sinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We create monsters and then we can't control them." </p>
<p>Fifty drabbles for Fifty states for Fifty Freelancers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alabama

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellelf/gifts), [Leechman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leechman/gifts).



> We all know Agents Carolina, York, North, South, Maine, Connecticut, and Wyoming but what about everyone else? As far as we know there are Fifty states and fifty Freelancers to match. This is their story. 
> 
> It came up in a conversation with Rachel one day that we know next to nothing about the other Freelancers, so we decided that we'd each write a set of fifty drabbles about them all. Later on Alex joined in as well and both of their sets can be found under hellelf (Rachel) and Leechman (Alex). Enjoy.

 

  
**Prompt:** Divided

_///_

_Let the floods cross_   
_The distance in your eyes_   
_Give me reason_   
_To **fill this hole**_   
_Connect this space between_   
_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies_   
_\- New Divide, Linkin Park_

_///_

**_fill this hole_ **

* * *

 Smacking her lip-glossed lips together, she sighed, noticing a smudge on one corner of her mouth. Alabama moved her pinky to wipe the excess gloss away, straightening up once she had done so and admiring her blond curls in the mirror. They bounced slightly as she swayed to the side causing her to smile. Her eyes moved away from her reflection and up above the mirror she kept in her locker to a picture.

 It was before Freelancer, before the war, before the training and the fighting and the blood and these AI everyone was always going on about. She's standing with her family at a barbeque; it was after she won the state beauty pageant, a few weeks before her brother died. He was an Insurrectionist and the only reason Alabama had opted for joining Freelancer was to carry out revenge on the soldier who'd killed him.

Yet now she wasn't so sure. The Director made a pretty good case and everyone here in the program seemed to think so too, and with these AI rumors floating around Alabama wasn't so sure that seeking revenge was the primary objective anymore. After all she'd won every beauty pageant she'd ever competed in at home, what was a little competition to make it to the top of the leader board. Of course she'd have to train harder, practice more, perfect her skills, but that was all part of winning, of being the best.

Eyes moving from the picture to the locker shelf, Alabama reached for a sparkling crown sitting there. Adjusting it on her head, she smiled again, her pageant smile, her winning smile. Most of the time, she felt divided between herself. Sometimes she was this Alabama, the one that had a goal here, the one that would avenge her brother and finally go home to where she belonged. Other times she was Freelancer Alabama, the one who could carry out orders as directed, the one who had no problem getting her hands dirty, the one who wanted to be at the top of this program.

And most of the time, Alabama didn't know who she was. Couldn't tell the difference between real Alabama and Freelancer Alabama. Who is she? Trying for another smile, she sighed taking the crown from her head and putting it neatly on the shelf, with one last glance at the picture and no more at her reflection, Alabama shut her locker.

Wouldn't want to be late for training.


	2. Alaska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The damage they told him had been too extensive and he hadn't helped by opening her up in the field.

 

**Prompt** : Fray

///

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_   
_Somewhere along in the bitterness_   
_And I would have stayed up with you all night_   
_Had I known how to **save a life**_   
_\- How to Save a life, The Fray  
_

///

_**save a life**_ __

* * *

His head was in one hand; eyes holding a dazed look as he toyed with the frayed bandana in his other hand. The bandana not even belonging to him but to a teammate, a close teammate. Someone who he'd trusted, someone who he had always liked, with her bright eyes and a laugh that reminded him of summertime. Alaska sat quietly in a seat by the now empty hospital bed. Armor still on and caked in her blood, helmet lying uselessly at his side, the tears he wouldn't cry building up behind his eyes.

He'd tried to save her in the field, pulled off her armor and seen the wound was to chest, e _xtremely_ close to the heart. Frantically, he'd searched for the small supply bag he usually kept on him yet it must have been lost when they'd been attacked. The only thing they had was her bandana and his knife. So grimly Alaska had agreed to try to get in there and stop the bleeding.

He should be used to doing work like this; he should be used to opening people up right there and right now, using whatever means he could. After all, he'd been a trauma surgeon before enlisting, and in his opinion he'd been a damn good one. Compared to now, being a trauma guy back at home seemed like a distant dream. Except he hadn't been good enough and now she was dead.

Two hours ago, she'd been here on this bed, an hour ago she'd been in the surgery room where guys like him _did_ save her life or tried to. The damage they told him had been too extensive and he hadn't helped by opening her up in the field. Not only that but they hadn't even completed the mission. The Director had scolded him as the leader of the squad but Alaska hadn't cared. Not when she was in surgery and he had practically killed her with his own hands.

Biting his lip, he felt a fresh wave of tears building, threatening to push their way onto the surface, threatening to fall at her bedside, threatening him and as much as he tried to push it back down. Tried to tell himself that tears wouldn't bring her back, tears wouldn't save her, tears didn't turn back time. He couldn't help it.

For the first time in a long time, Alaska let them fall, not remembering an hour later how he got on the floor clutching her bandana to his face. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be cliche using The Fray for a band but I like the song and it fits.


End file.
